Dragons were real.

Castras Telvanni had known this his whole life, ever since he'd lived in Morrowind with his parents and had found one in a cave after escaping her grasp to explore. The dragon had let him approach it, seeing as he was only a boy, but flew off when it- no he, Castras had somehow instinctively knew it was a male, had touched him. It was like the dragon had seen something in him and feared it. He could actually feel the waves of emotion coming from the dragon and before he had flown off, he had said one thing in a strange language.

Hin mahtiid los vul, mal gein.

He had told no one of what he saw or heard for fear that his mother would not let him out of her sight. Though, that did not stop him from thinking of it everyday of his life. Shortly after seeing the dragon, the Argonian's invaded his home, Mournhold. His father died protecting him and his mother, his mother killing the nameless Argonian while he was distracted by his father. In the aftermath of the battle for Mournhold, where the Argonian's took control of the city, his mother took him to live with her brother, Neloth, on the island of Solstheim. A month after living with him, his mother fell ill and not even Neloth's most powerful Restoration spells nor his alchemist's potions did any good and she died soon after.

Castras was a strange sort of breed. Mainly because his father was an Imperial and his mother a Dunmer. He'd the accent of the Dunmer, the skin of an Imperial, the red eyes of his mother, and the red hair of his father. He also aged as the Dunmer did, he was nearly two hundred years old and barely looked past his twenties.

Living with his uncle Neloth was a strange thing because the wizard was arrogant, proud, and most of all, unafraid of punishment. Castras could not count how many times he had been on the receiving end of a Sparks spell to his behind for his insolence. However much Neloth punished the boy, he loved him as if he was his own son and Castras soon took to him as a father figure, becoming his second shadow and trying to imitate all the spells and the way he talked.

Castras become Neloth's apprentice, learning spells most wouldn't dream of ever trying. He was quite gifted in the art of magic and when a mercenary by the name of Teldryn Sero came to live with Uncle Neloth for a few years, he taught him how to swing a blade, and how to become a great swordsman. Due to his training with both, Castras became a powerful spellsword. In the year 201 of the Fourth Era, he decided to visit Skyrim, he'd heard tales of from Teldryn about the people who lived there, the Nords. They were a proud people, large in stature and even larger in pride. Apparently, when the White-Gold Concordat was signed, one of the agreements was the ban of the worship of Talos which stirred up arguments from Skyrim and now there was a civil war in the province. The Stormcloaks, the rebels, wanted the Empire out while the Empire was trying to keep its hold on Skyrim.

Frankly, Castras thought it was all worthless, the worship of most of the Divines. He thought the only things worth worshiping was someone's prowress in battle and Akatosh, the only Aedra he thought was worth worshiping.

On his way to Skyrim, he had to pass through Morrowind and then Cyrodiil due to roadblocks to keep the rebels from spreading out of Skyrim and for some reason, they would not let anyone into the province. He finally managed to find an unmaned pass when Imperials swarmed out of the trees, the ground and bushes to attack a group of men further down the road. One of the soldiers thought that Castras was with them and before he could explain, the soldier hit him on the head with a club, knocking him out.

And so our story begins..


A/N: Hello again! I decided to turn that one-shot into a full fledged story. Well this is just an introduction but for tonight, it's all I shall be doing. I will try to post the first chapter sometime this week but school might have other plans for that. Leave a review and enjoy!